“a tree must send it’s roots into hell, if it’s branches are ever going to reach the heavens”
what’s life for a po’ white?
beer, smokes and a ho wife,
or prison,
i’d rather be livin’
that rogue life,
you know?,
like,
roaming on roads that don’t go right?,
it’s about
being a homeless soul,
alone
on a cold night,
only then,
will we comb the unknown
for a vision
so bright, it’ll illuminate
our buddha seeds
like a grow light,
so,
you’ve got nowhere to go,
right?
you should be so psyched,
as this is your opportunity
to grow
out of being a fucking low life,
a fucking,
vincent,
van gogh type,
i got a hole in my soul type.